Gothic Transfixion

By Stabbing Westward Junkie

Published on Jul 26, 2002

Gay

[Author's Note: Again, I must thank everyone who wrote to me about this story. I can't begin to tell you what the support and kind words mean to me; this story wouldn't have gotten so far if it wasn't for you guys. I think it should be retitiled however.... "Gothic Interuptions" shall be its new unofficial title henceforth. - winks at Oscar - I apologize for the length of time it took to get it sent in... I am currently half-way across the country I live in and don't get much solitude in which to write. But thanks for waiting; I have never felt more humbled then when I get your e-mails requesting me to "hurry the hell up" with the next chapter. ;o) - hugs for all, kisses for C - Hope you guys like this chapter... ]

"Have a good time, boys! Silver, I expect to see you home on Sunday."

I wave dismissively at my mother and nod impatiently, slipping my hand into Josh's waiting one as we leave the house. Our fingers entwine instantly, a comfort attained quickly and maintained. We run down the stairs quickly; I can see Josh smiling happily and the look of it makes my heart lift. As we reach his car, he pauses me in the act of letting go of his hand so I can go to the passenger side. Pulling my hand towards him as I attempt to reluctantly disentangle it from his own, he wraps his arms around me gently, bowing his head to press a gentle, sweet kiss to my cheek.

"Thanks for coming," he whispers softly, rubbing his cheek against my own, his eyes closing.

My eyes instantly close at the nearness of his voice, and I encircle him with my own arms, my hands traversing the slender curve of his waist lightly, carefully. I laugh gently and shyly administer a quick kiss to his cheek in return, breathing in the human, spice-scented aura of him.

"Thanks for inviting me. But did you really think I'd say no?"

He grins ruefully and lets me step away; I keep my gaze on him as I move around the car, opening the passenger door and slipping in quickly. I remove my backpack as I do so, placing it on my lap as he gets in. Shutting the door, he reaches into his pocket for his keys, his slender fingers moving under the taut material ponderously, sorting through random pocket objects until I hear the muted singing of metal upon metal which signifies the keys. He pulls them out and sticks the ignition key in the slot, turning it and making the car come alive with a throaty purr. Shoving it into reverse, he directs his gaze into the rearview mirror, speaking in his steady, gentle voice.

"When I got here, I did. And I thought your mom might say no."

I watch him as the car slowly backs out of the driveway; the way his fingers move captivates me: so ignorant of their own strange yet perfect beauty as they hold the gearshift, the way the dim light hits them makes them look an almost incoporeal silver, like out of a dream. As we turn out onto the street, the sunlight streams into the car, filling it with the dying splendor of golden light, making a lightshow out of Josh's hair and pouring into the green peircing glow of his eyes.

"Yeah, I thought she would too. I guess we caught her in a good mood," I reply, my voice coming slowly, still in a daze about the whole thing.

Every once and a while I touch my hand to my lips, as if trying to reassure that he DID kiss them, as if trying to capture the remnants of the kiss and grind them into my skin for as long as they'll keep. He's seen me do this a few times, as we helped my mother with her stuff, and he grins and bites his lip, a wondering look in his eyes that quickly turns to shy happiness. He looks at me now as the car rolls to a gentle halt at the red light, the smile on his face lopsided and achingly charismatic.

"Aw, what's that doing in your lap?" He inquires, a mock-pouting tone to his voice.

I blink and look down the heavy bulk of my backpack, and then grin and look up at him. He grins back and grabs a hold of it with one hand and tosses it into the back seat.

"You'll need your hands free," he explains, the car jolting a bit as the light goes green and he steps on the gas.

"Hmm? Why?" I ask wonderingly.

"Because I need at least one," he replies softly, his hand slipping into mine slowly, a languid gentleness to his movements that makes me sigh longingly.

I hold his hand tightly as he drives, smiling like an idiot at the scene of our hands together again. My fingers caress his skin slowly, my hands burning at our joint touch, my heart seeming to soar as fast as the car is going, as fast as the wind through the open window that whips Josh's hair around his face.

"Does Madison know?" I ask suddenly, wondering.

He nods after a moment, the smile on his lips taking a deeper touch.

"Yeah, she does. Well, she knows how I feel about you. She's known since before I even knew."

I laugh softly and raise his hand slowly towards my lips, placing a kiss on the back of it gently, hesitantly.

"She seems to be good at that," I murmur, my breath sinking into his skin.

He exhales slightly at the kiss, and I see his eyes close for a split second before we start to turn. I let him have his hand back as he turns the steering wheel, but after the turn he has my hand again, not letting it go. My gaze travels helplessly down his hand, past his wrist to watching the way the dark purple material of his shirt hangs like altar swathing upon the slender but muscular straightness of his forearm. I close my eyes for a moment, involuntarily wondering what it would feel like to slip my fingers under his sleeve and run them up and down his skin, to feel the warmth of his body and to sense his muscles reacting and relaxing to my touch..

"Here we are," he suddenly says, and I have to let go of his hand again as he turns onto a driveway.

I look out the window wonderingly at gape at the house that looms before me. It's a huge confection of stone and mortar; trim and precise in its construction, almost intimidating in its magnificance. The gates surrounding it are taller than I am, I know already, and are black and tipped with lethal looking spikes.

"Holy shit," I murmur, staring.

He chuckles and leans over, brushing my hair away from my cheek before he kisses it again, his voice a heady, autumn-toned murmur in my ear.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? My dad got a good deal on it. It's the only house I've lived in that I actually like. But come on; everyone's waiting for us."

I nod slowly as his voice slips into silence, and get out of the car, standing there until Josh gets out. He shuts his door and locks it, and I follow suit, moving around the car again to stand beside him, gazing dubiously at the front door. A fear slowly assails me, and although I am loathe to ask, I have to anyway.

"Is.. Ethan here?" I ask almost inaudibly, feeling a curl of jealousy stab through me as I say his name.

He shakes his head and looks at me, his expression at once apologetic and regretful. The look in his eyes pains me; an abyss of hurt in the emerald brightness.

"No. I refuse to be around him. If not forever, at least for a good long time."

I nod after a relieved second and smile, taking his hand again.

"Okay. Well, lead on, then."

He nods and winks, walking up the driveway with me in tow, our hands seeming to be inseparable, as if cemented together. Walking lightly up the steps, we slip under the relative shade of the awning and wait for him to find his keys again, me watching as he slips a gleaming copper-coloured key into the doorlock. It opens and we step inside, the door clicking gently shut behind us. Instantly we are faced with a group of people in the living room, all sprawled about the room in various positions, some talking, others playing guitars, some watching a movie on the television, Apocalypse Now, I think, and others sitting around the food table. Some look up and wave and smile to us, others simply don't notice our quiet entrance. I vaguely recognise most of them from our school, but their names elude me for the most part. Madison jumps up from some guy's lap and makes her way over, the grin on her face magnifying three-fold as she spies our clasped hands.

"Hello, you two.." she says with a mad grin, her dark eyes sparkling like wondering stars as she looks to me.

I blush and return the grin, and probably the starry-eyed look as well, mumbling some sort of awkward greeting. Josh laughs slightly as she nudges him, and lifts his gaze to the rest of the room.

"So. Everyone having a good time so far?" he asks nonchallantly, his eyes sparkling and the trembling grin on his lips making my knees feel weak.

She nods impatiently and locks her hands on her hips, her gaze becoming even more intrigued as she gazes at her grinning cousin.

"Yeah, yeah. Merry times, lots of fun had by all, general enjoyment. So did you finally tell him?"

Josh and I grin at each other, and Josh nods wordlessly, a blush infiltrating his features and making him look boyishly cute. Madison yelps for joy and throws her arms around each of us in turn, her giggles like music.

"Finally!" She says to me, shaking her head. "You don't know how HARD it was to keep my mouth shut about what I knew.. you know, sometimes I hate you, Josh."

Josh laughs heartily and kisses his cousin on the cheek, patting her face gently. Then someone calls him to join the guitarist group, and he looks over at me for a moment, a fleeting expression of reluctance in his eyes. I shrug and motion for him to go over, smiling in spite of myself as I see the unhappiness in his gaze. Madison grins and yanks Josh's hand out of mine, dragging him over to the expectant group.

"He's not going anywhere," I hear her croon as they go, and can't help but laugh softly as I see Josh's cheeks redden and his hand lift in disgust to flick Madison's away.

They seat themselves in the haphazzard circle on the floor, one of the dred-locked guys passing over his guitar to Josh with a smile. Josh takes it slowly, cautiously, resting it in his lap, his fingers finding the frets with the ease of a practiced player. I didn't know he played... this should be something to watch.

"Only song I know well is Metallica's 'Unforgiven'," he warns, and the others shrug.

"So?" one pipes up. "The best we've been able to come up with so far is a half-assed version of 'Stairway to Heaven". The middle of it sounded like the guitar had been through a meat grinder..."

They all laugh, and Josh snickers. Then, he begins to play. The first chords come out hesitantly, but after a few false starts, he manages to get it going pretty well. The notes sink out into the room softly, like air rushing through a meadow during the dying light of sunset. Conversations around the room stop, and one by one, faces turn to watch Josh as he plays. He stops for a moment as his hair slips out from behind his ear, his slender fingers lifting to push it back into place, the blush from before intensifying as he looks up to see everyone watching him. Shrugging after an embarassed moment, he goes back to playing, the song putting itself together with effortless perfection. Someone in the group starts to sing, and soon the whole room is either humming or singing along; the eerie campfire ambiance giving me weird thrills down my spine.

I watch the room as he plays, noting the whiteness of the walls, the vivid contrast of the African art decorating them, and the outrageously expensive feeling of the white carpet beneath my feet. The sunlight streams through a blind-covered set of windows on the western side of the room, bathing the guitar circle in a golden, hazy glow; a natural spotlight, of which Josh is the undeniable star. I watch the smile that hangs onto his lips, the lazy, unconscious grin of his that I have come to see in my dreams every night; I see how the sunlight perforates his eyes and makes the lime turn a weird green-orange; the colour of octarine, of magic, I have always thought. A lock of hair comes slithering out from behind his ear again and falls with silken precision upon his cheek; he makes no move to dislodge it this time. My fingers twitch helplessly as I ache to move it, to feel his skin beneath my touch again...

The song ends, and silence falls as the last, lingering notes trickle away like perfumed rain into nothingness. The quiet is absolute as Josh looks up and puts the guitar down, and then applause fills the room. He blushes instantly again, bowing his head slightly so that his hair careens over his shoulder and curtains his face. Muttering some sort of clumsy thanks, he stands and makes his way back over to me. Conversations start again, people turn away. I grin stupidly as he approaches, applauding softly.

"Oh, stop it," he murmurs in exasperation, the smile on his face as bright as the stars.

I wink at him and lean in quickly to press a kiss to his cheek, whispering into his ear.

"And you thought the song I wrote for you was played well... you're amazing."

As I straighten, I watch with a flush of giddy happiness as he lifts a slightly quavering hand to touch the cheek I'd just kissed, his eyes wide and his smile frozen in slowly blossoming hope. I stare into those green depths adoringly for a moment, simply lost in the way the iris' are just so damn green, and then he speaks slowly.

"You... wrote... that song for... me."

A statement... an incredulous statement. I have to giggle softly, and before I can answer, he grabs my hand and yanks me into the kitchen, which is enwrapped in shadow. Pulling me over to the wall by the entrance, he pushes me against it suddenly, and before I can react or even wonder what he is doing, he has my hands lifted and pinned against the wall, his body pressing directly against mine, his lips persuing mine with a hunger that makes me gasp. The scent of his skin and the sweet taste of his mouth transports to me to an unexplainable plane of bliss, my only able reaction being to kiss him back, as deeply as I've ever dreamed and desired to. I feel his hair fall around my face, feel his eratic breathing on my lips. He grips my hands tightly as we kiss, our lips dancing and moving together with a perfection that I've only ever read about in sappy love stories [author's note: like this one!], our tongues touching tentatively and then desperately. His fingers thread through my hair, and it is only when I feel them touching my face that I realize he has let go of my hands, which are now hanging where they were placed, against the wall over my head. I let them fall to wrap around his waist slowly, my hands making very deliberate movements on his skin as I let them truly feel him; the slender creation of his hips, the muscles tensing further with each touch, the warmth of his body.

His fingers stroke my cheeks slowly, but with a firmness that speaks not of tenderness alone, but of a need that surpasses his ability to keep it hidden. We breathe in syncronization; an erratic tide of desire that fills the kitchen with sounds that probably shouldn't be there.. but are. I draw him closer, dizzy with want and need, and he readily complies, not an inch of space to be found between us when he is done. The taut, straight-spined fact of him makes me have to seriously remind myself to hold onto reality; experiencing the strength of his legs against mine, the movement of his arms, the rippling of his abdominal muscles against my chest all becoming an intoxicating elixir that threatens to send me falling into unconsciousness. He seems to sense this though, for his kisses become slightly softer, and his arms move to slip around me, holding me tightly against him as his lips dance upon mine. My hands clutch his shirt tightly, moving down his back slightly as my fingers start to slip under it, moving with a force that seems to be entirely run by the wrong head.

"Silver..." he gasps warningly, and I flinch guiltily and stop, my hands dropping away instantly.

"Sorry," I mutter into his lips, feeling a rage of embarassment and anger sweep through my mind. Jesus... just relax, Silver...

But then his lips are pressing hungrily into mine again, and I hear his shaky voice once more.

"No.. I was trying to tell you not to stop... and..."

A moan slips past his lips and lands on my tongue as sweet as honey, and I shiver. I lift my hands again, slowly letting them slip under his shirt, the searing warmth of his back burning my fingers as I let them touch his flesh.

"And...?" I prompt drowzily, shivering acutely as he arches his back to my touch.

He moans again, softly, and with the movements of a cat, presses deeply against me, his whole body trembling feverishly.

"And..." he whispers tremulously, taking hold of my lower lip gently with his teeth and tugging on it slightly, instantly making me feel as though I've been injected with 20 cc's of liquid Viagra... "that I think I'm going to be getting us into trouble in a moment..."

"Why..?" I ask wonderingly, still in a daze, my lips administering soft, desiring kisses to his own.

"Because I'm just about to hit the point of no return and am going to have to drag you upstairs to my room...and that will no doubt create uncomfortable questions..."

I groan as I hear this, an instant hard-on starting to result. Josh's room... being dragged there by the god himself... I grip him hard as I feel myself start to fall, and he supports me as I do.

"Or the floor," I hear myself whisper, dragging him down with me as I go.

He emits a strangled moan as we fall, his body shivering crazily. But as we get half-way down, a whispered, hurried voice slips into the kitchen, and I look up to see Madison hovering guiltily over us, her expression flustered and embarassed.

"Sorry! Sorry! I'm really sorry! But I figured you guys were in here.. and I had an idea what... well.. what you were doing, and I had to warn you..."

She is interupted as voices approach the kitchen, laughter sweeping into the darkened room and making me wince with its cachophany. Josh snarls under his breath and stands quickly, pulling me up with him as he goes, his fingers digging into my skin in such a way that makes me want to melt. The light snaps on, flooding the kitchen with an unwelcome flourescent brillance, searing my eyes and making me stumble slightly. I fight to calm my breathing and blood, and watch as Josh lifts his hands to his hair hurriedly, pulling his fingers through its slightly touseled appearance. A group of about five people saunter around the corner and grin at us.

"Hey, Josh," one says, a smile touching her glitter-covered lips. "Just wondered where you've got all those drinks hidden..."

Madison smiles brightly at the group, and with one blushing glance back at us, manuveres her way around us and opens the fridge door. Rummaging around, she comes up with a few cases of Smirnoff Ice, some Rev, and some Baja Rosa. Thunking them one at a time on the counter, it is to applause that she stands again. Grinning, she points to them.

"We bought them just this afternoon... Josh paid, of course."

The crowd grins and thanks him, taking their drinks. He half-heartedly smiles back, nodding mutely to their exclimations of appriciation. After they leave, Madison turns a rueful expression onto the both of us, biting her lower lip in apologetic consternation.

"I... I'm sorry." she murmurs, her cheeks flushing a bright crimson again.

Josh sighs irritably and shrugs, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

"It's okay, Mad," he replies softly after a moment. "Thanks for.. warning us."

She looks over to me and flushes further, and I blush in return, dropping my gaze and running my hands through my hair in a fit of embarassment. There is an uncomfortable silence for a few excruciating moments, and then I grab myself a drink, not able to stand it any longer.

"Let's go, then," I say with a wry grin.

Madison nods gratefully, gets her drink as well, and leaves the kitchen quickly. Josh sidles up behind me, threading an arm around me as he gets his drink, and placing a kiss on the back of my neck. My eyes instantly close as shivering waves of pleasure crash through me, my body tensing slightly. He is still for a moment, and I lean back against him slowly, unable to stop myself. He inhales softly and then I feel his arms closing around me, the hand not holding the bottle slipping around my waist gently.

I sigh quietly, a sound of complete contentment as I fold myself into the warmth of him, feeling his cheek nuzzle against mine, hearing his breathing fall upon my ear.

"Mmmm..." he half-moans as he pulls me tighter against his chest, his lush lips lowering to kiss the curve between my shoulder and my neck, his teeth pulling at the fabric of my shirt slightly.

My hands start to feel weak, and I put my drink back on the counter slowly, letting my fingers caress the length of his arm, feeling the solidness of his flesh under the silken material of the shirt. But then I remember that we are supposed to be outside, and I blink, grabbing my drink again.

"We.... we gotta...go..." I manage to utter, trying to somehow deal with my crazily out-of-control hormones.

He nods slowly and releases his grip on me.

"Yeah... we do..." he whispers, clearing his throat quietly.

With a shaky smile, I turn and kiss him quickly, heading towards the door. He follows after me, a dangerous look in his green eyes that speaks unmistakably of bedroom secrets and satin sheets... a look that almost makes me drop my drink. He manages a smile, however, and squeezes my hand as we go back outside. The stereo is on, playing some sort of nameless trance music, the lights out and a huge lava lamp in the middle of the room.

Josh grins and points at it.

"My dad's, if you can believe." He explains, heading towards it.

I laugh and follow him, readying for a long night.


By the middle of it, people have spread themselves all over the house, a group of them sprawled on the stairs, others in the basement, couples upstairs (against Josh's explicit instructions), and a large number still in the living room. I'm still in the living room myself, reclining in a bean-bag chair and watching Josh across the room, trying to fix the settings on the stereo.

"What the hell happened to the bass?" He complains, stabbing futilely at the bass button on the console.

I grin as I watch him, sipping my drink quietly, laughing as a group forms around him, all of them trying to figure it out. Josh and I have pretty much been separated the whole evening, partly because we can never get near each other with the crowd, but also partly, I think, due to the fact we know we won't be able to keep our hands off each other for long. I look up as a shadow falls over me, and smile as I see Madison. She sits down on the floor next to me, a grin on her laughing lips.

"Quit it already, would you?" she asks plaintively, winking.

"Quit what?" I ask, not comprehending, glancing over to find Josh again, a completely helpless move on my behalf.

"THAT!" she laughs. "You and Josh have been trading glances all night, staring like lovesick souls at each other every, like, five minutes!"

I flush and grin, dropping my gaze as I take another sip of my drink.

"Can't help it," I murmur defensively. "I think I'm dreaming."

She laughs prettily, and reaches over to pinch my arm suddenly. I flich, and she grins.

"Nope, not dreaming. But I know Josh's is pretty much on cloud 27489724, never mind cloud nine....."

I bite my lip and stare wonderingly at her, a huge smile infiltrating my lips. She laughs again and nods, continuing.

"When you guys came out of the kitchen earlier, he was jumping up and down on the spot, grinning like an idiot. He told me: 'I can't believe this is happening... oh man oh man oh man...'"

She giggles as I stare, and leans over to pat my reddening cheek.

"So you must be pretty happy, then, hmm?"

I nod, and speak softly, looking down at my drink, unable to stop smiling.

"I'm.... I don't even know what I am. Just... thank you, Madison.... for... helping."

She smiles again, her dark eyes brighter than any light-coloured ones could be.

"Of course. What kind of cousin would I be if I didn't? It was so hard, though... seeing both of you loving each other off like crazy... and not being able to say anything..."

I hug her sympathetically, and she winks.

"So. Looks like you two were having fun in the kitchen earlier... all that touching and heavy breathing and whatnot..."

I blink and shift uncomfortably, the blush burning its way through my whole body. She giggles teasingly, and pats my arm, standing once more.

"Just stay safe," she warns, much to my chagrin.

Then, with another wink and a chuckle, she is gone again.

"I got it!" Josh suddenly exclaims from across the room, and it is to a chorus of cheers that the music starts playing again.

I recognise it instantly. "Closer", by Nine Inch Nails. The heavy beginning beats thump slowly, steadily, filling the room with a steady sexual beat that seems to dim the lights and cast a surreal, erotic glow to the room. People grin knowingly and get up in pairs to dance, couples attaching themselves to each other as tightly as superglue, grinding against one another to the song. I shiver as I hear Trent Reznor's voice fill the space around me, his sinisterly sexy tones invoking feelings of pure erotica. I have always felt this song is special... special in a way that no other song can touch. Sure, the lyrics can be a bit... crude... "I wanna fuck you like an animal... I want to feel you from the inside..." ...but they're crude in such a powerful, sexy way that they're forgivable... even...desired.

I open my eyes to find Josh watching me, his green eyes glowing and his teeth working his lower lip. I groan silently as I stare back, wanting more than anything to get up there with him and do what the song is screaming at me to do, but being unable to knowing that I wouldn't be able to keep control for very long. He seems to understand this, because he grins slightly at me, nodding his head and then blowing me a discreet kiss before turning back into the crowd once more. I watch carefully as girls tug on his sleeves in an appeal to get him to dance with them, and can't help but feel a flush of pride and love as he shakes his head at them, smiling in his sensually charismatic way as he moves away.

The night wears on, with me in my bean-bag chair, talking to whomever stops to speak with me, and of course "trading lovesick glances" with Josh every once and a while, the beauty of his features managing to floor me each time he glances my way. I can't help but laugh as, at one point during the night, a flock of girls pauses beside me, training their adoring eyes on my boyfriend and complaining self-rightously.

"He's so... HOT! Why isn't he dancing with any of us? A guy that sexy shouldn't be alone like that..."

They stare at each other imploringly, shrugging as they watch him.

"He's never danced with anyone, as far as I can remember... I've never seen him do it at any clubs or parties or anything... not even at school," one says, "He's always alone. Never has a girlfriend."

"Hmm.." one muses. "Maybe he's got a long-distance girlfriend?"

"Or," one replies, grinning, "maybe he's gay."

They fall silent at this, and stare at him contemplatively, alternating looks of despair and intrigue suffusing their features. I chuckle to myself, drowning my laughter in the last vestiges of my drink.

"Nah," one says after a while. "He's got a body made for a woman. And eyes, too.."

They all sigh at this, and I snicker to myself as I too watch him. He seems to sense us all staring at him, for he turns and looks over his shoulder, his eyes lighting up as he sees me, and he waves his fingers, winking with a quick, radiant smile. The girls giggle.

"Oooohhh..." they chorus, "he was waving at us!"

As they move away, I finally let myself laugh; laughing not only at the insipid girls, but at the weirdness of it all... of one day thinking I'd lost Josh, and the next managing to be locked in the sweetest kiss imaginable with him. Stretching slowly, I get up out of the chair, keeping an eye on Josh the whole time. I bite my lip as he does a sexy move to the music; a strange, erotic kind of.. ripple with his whole body, his hips moving with tantalizing slowness. The girls near me grow quiet as they watch him; their eyes tracking him as he links hands with Madison, the both of them twirling around each other slowly, both doing graceful movements with their arms, hands and hips that border on the sensual but not quite. They grin at each other as people around them begin to cheer, and they gesture for them to join, waving invitingly.

The song changes, fading from KMFDM to Stabbing Westward with a perfection that makes me shiver. The slow, dusky melody grabs a hold of the senses, perverting them, bringing the soul closer to a darker plane of reality; reminding the body of skin on skin, of sighs, gasps and moans, reminding the spirit of release and insane desire. The song is "Inside You"; the sexiest song I know. In the way that "Closer" is sexy, "Inside You" is just the opposite. It's sexy in a subtle, tantalizing way, the words leaving you imagining things that you weren't a moment before, making your senses ultra alert and sensitive. At least, that is what it does for me...

"I feel your lips I taste your skin I need to know I need to feel you from within..."

The soft, haunting harmonies of the lead singer's voice shivers through the room, putting a dangerous, introspective aura around it. I watch as Josh lets go of Madison's hands and stands still, his eyes drifting shut in what I would guess is an involuntary action; his body tensing in reaction to the words. I watch how the shadows fall onto his eyelides and lashes, turning them into a smoke-coloured sable softness, dripping onto his cheeks slowly, carefully, like first-time lovers. His hair becomes akin to liquid sexuality in that perfect moment, streaming down his shoulders and onto his chest; a mantle of chestnut and caramel obscurity, the highlights singing silken, perfumed songs as the room lights glitter across them.

"As your blood burns through my skin I feel complete I breathe you in It's where you end and I begin If only I could stay here...forever..."

His eyes open slowly, a languid, heartstopping magnetism to the movement that instantly puts me in mind of a cat's eyes as they open after resting in a comfortable place. The raven-coloured lashes lift; an obsidian symphony preluding the elegance and pure beauty that is about to come. I feel as though I myself have stopped; I cannot feel my body around me, cannot feel or hear any thoughts, cannot feel my heart, nor breath being drawn into my lungs. I have simply become a pair of eyes, rivited upon the angel before me. My whole spirit seems to thrum and sing as his eyes fully open; taken to a place of ecstacy as the green lightning abuses and condemns my soul.

"So much to tell you So much to confide Now that I'm inside you We are flesh We are one So why do I feel so much guilt for what I've done?"

We are flesh. We are one. Desire. I feel this and this only as he locks that scorching gaze on mine. The aching lust pounds through my consciousness with the strength of an ancientl tsunami. 'Here,' the emerald glow demands. 'Now.'

I comply.

"As your blood burns through my skin I feel release I breathe you in It's where you end and I begin If I could only stay here...forever..."

I walk towards him slowly; I know that I am walking only because he is getting closer without he himself moving. Vaguely, I see people moving aside for me, following me with their eyes as I approach Josh. Madison drifts into my peripheral vision momentarily; before she fades away I see her bite her lower lip, a wistful longing in her gaze. Then I hear her voice, distant, as though projected to me over a radius of a million miles and years, saying something about everyone going into the next room... to get more drinks...

"So much to tell you So much to give you So much to show you So much to teach you So much to confide Now that I'm inside you.."

I can feel the room emptying; the slow flow of people and their energy soaking out of the room, leaving me more room to breathe, to expand, to watch Him. The song is a remix... it begins to play again, differently, the lyrics changing, but losing none of their spell-making glory. 'Silver...' his eyes seem to whisper, in a voice that makes me tremble. 'Touch me...' I hear a soft gasp, and before I can realize it is my own, I suddenly feel connected to my arms and hands again as I feel them slide around him. The contact burns, and I moan with the force of it, unable to breathe as his own arms pull me close against him. This dance is to be different than any I've done before, I realize, as his fingers press slow, sensual patterns into my back as they move upwards. An affinity to the surreal and beautiful.

"So much to tell me So much to give me So much to show me So much to teach me So much tell me..."

My head bows slightly to fit into the curve of his neck and shoulder again, my fingers slipping under his shirt slowly, gliding onto the smooth expanse of his back. We're moving slowly, in a pattern that seems patternless but that I can predict before it happens. I feel his fingers, as smooth and elusive as spice-scented air, slipping through my hair, brushing it off to the side, exposing my neck. His cheek slips against mine as he lowers his head, and I hear a soft, unbelievable purr as he kisses my throat, my fingernails digging into his back as he flicks his tongue against my skin. As my fingernails sink into his skin, his purr deepens slowly, his back arching to my touch once more. Then I feel his lips part and his teeth to graze my neck, their sharpness playing a delicate dance before lightly nipping, his tongue and teeth interacting with one another perfectly as they move.

"Don't make me stop," he whispers pleadingly through his purr, and I simply stay where I am, speechless and dumbstruck.

My body feels as though it is on fire, the point of explosion being where his mouth caresses my throat.

"..." I manage, the sound coming out in a gasping whimper.

"This song always makes me think of you... I would leave the cd on as I slept, and then this song would come on in the middle of the night... making me have the most incredible dreams of you. And then I'd wake up... just as he would scream 'Now that I'm inside'... and I'd never know whether to start crying or to go take a cold shower. And other times..."

His voice drifts off into silence slowly, the silence speaking volumes. A vision comes into my mind as the soundlessness works its meaning on me: Josh lying on his bed, in the middle of the darkness, the music surrounding him softly, his lips parted in an ecstatic need for breath as the dream that fills his head sends him spiralling down an abyss of pleasure. Slender fingers gripping sweat-soaked sheets, skin burning to the touch, the other hand moving down his chest to slip under the blanket covering him, heading towards a place of need and throbbing desire...

My body shakes as it tries to deal with the emotion that the image creates, trembling against his shamelessly as I lift my head to find his cheek, kissing towards his lips, a fire kindled now that will not abate. He readily accepts my kisses, our lips at once entangling again. I put a force into the kiss that I did not know I had, and his delighted whimper fills the air as a reply. The fire begins to spread, heading downwards slowly, deliberately, fueling a desperate need in my groin. My hands remove themselves from under his shirt and find the front of it, my fingers slowly untiying the lace that holds it together. His breathing starts to quicken, and he simply deepens the kiss as I untie his shirt, his fingers coming up to hold my face with a sweet tenderness. My fingertips caress each inch of skin as it is exposed to them, gradually progressing downwards, the ribbon that I pull rippling across the backs of my hands.

"We're probably going to get interupted," Josh whispers slowly, reluctantly. "This is the living room after all..."

My fingers slow their movements, and I pull away from the kiss as realization comes crashing in. He watches me with eyes gone a dark, dark green, his lips a muted cherry red from the force of our exchange.

"Right..." I mumble, and look down as I feel a red-hot blush swerve onto my cheeks.

He smiles slightly and lifts my chin, pressing a firm kiss to my lips, prolonging it slowly before he pulls away again.

"I'm crashing the party soon anyways," he says quietly. "I need my... rest, right?" And with a wink and soft chuckle, he has me in his arms again, hugging me as close as he can.

I grin helplessly and nod after a moment, my hands lifting to tie his shirt again. As they thread the ribbon back into the holes, he watches with a sorrowful look in his gaze, shaking his head.

"God... that looks so horrible," he half-whispers.

I blink.

"What does? Why?"

He smiles again, the ghost of a grin.

"You... tying up my shirt, when all I've ever dreamed of is you doing the opposite."

I have to blush and laugh softly as he says this, and I hug him for a quick moment before a loud crash howls across the room from upstairs. Josh's eyes narrow, but he waits for me to let go of him before tearing away. People's head stick out of the kitchen door, staring quizically up at the ceiling. I shrug at them as they look questioningly at me, and watch as Josh bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time. A few other people, including Madison and myself run up after him wonderingly. As we round the corner, we see Josh poised in a doorway, one hand resting on his head, fingers laced through his hair in an expression of disbelief, the other hand on his hip.

I stare over his shoulder into the room, catching only vague imprints of posters on the wall, most of my attention locked upon the figure sitting by the window. Broken glass lies in coldly glittering jaggedness all over the hardwood floor; not glass from the window, but from something that I guess was sitting on the sill. Sitting behind the glass is Ethan, staring up at Josh with a perversely defiant expression. His blue eyes glitter as coldly as the glass surrounding him, their icy depths made dark with their angry light. Josh sighs slowly, the undertones descending into a half-supressed growl. As his hand falls away from his hair, the fingers pull aside some of the hair draped across his features, and I flinch at the expression I see lying on them. Complete rage.

"Get out of my goddamned room," he states flatly, every tone wreathed in iron fire.

Ethan's expression wavers and freezes for a moment as he stares at Josh. I can almost feel the tension between the two of them, can almost see sparks where blue eyes clash with wickedly burning green ones. But Ethan shakes his head resolutely, and stands unsteadily, gripping the sill for support as he straightens.

"No. I need to talk to you."

Everything is silent as he says this; Madison stares at him over her cousin's shoulder, the other people stand behind her, watching. Josh regards him for a moment longer, and then starts to laugh humourlessly.

"So you break into my house?"

Ethan's eyes blaze right back at his, but then he drops them to the floor, where he falls to a crouch again, trembling fingers reaching out to awkwardly pick up peices of the shattered glass. Automatically, I weave past Josh to help, not wanting him to cut himself, no matter how much of a prick he is. Ethan looks up at me as I kneel down to help and his face darkens, but he says nothing. I help him to assemble it into a small pile, feeling horrible as the tension and anger flows around me.

"Thanks," Ethan mumbles as we finish.

I nod, and then look up as Josh approaches, watch as he slams the door shut. I flinch at the sound, and so does Ethan. I stand quickly, moving out of the way, pressing up against the wall as Josh stalks right up to Ethan, anger rippling in his slowly clenching and unclenching hands, anihilation in the burning anger of his eyes. Ethan doesn't move, to his credit, merely stares Josh in the face. Josh stares him down for a moment, then utters a growl of frustration as he sees the defiance in Ethan's eyes. Backing up slightly, he folds his arms over his chest.

"Out with it, then." A deadly calm to Josh's voice, a calm that is balanced perfectly on the edge of a knife.

Ethan sighs slowly, wringing his hands for a moment, and then flashes a smouldering glance my way.

"Not with HIM here."

Josh shakes his head instantly, his voice resolute.

"I decide who stays. I want him here. So out with it, before I physically pull it out of you."

Ethan descends into a sullen silence for a moment. I bow my head, inwardly writhing.

"You didn't give me a chance to explain, Josh." Quiet toned. I look up.

Josh stares down at the pile of glass, then speaks quietly as well, but still with a dangerous edge.

"I've given you plenty of chances, Ethan. I gave you them time and time again. Remember? But you just didn't seem to care. So why do you think I should start giving them to you now? Or back at the club, even? You don't DESERVE chances. That much was proven to me at the club."

Ethan sighs again, and shakes his head. When he speaks, it is in a tone so uncharacteristic of him, a tone drenched in sadness and regret.

"Yeah, I know, Josh. I know I'm a fuck-up. But... before this happened, this club thing, we were FINE! We were getting along again, everything! You could actually stand to be around me again, and I wasn't pushing you. You have to admit it... it was nice. I've missed you, Josh. So much."

I avert my gaze, feeling my eyes sting. Not with tears, but actual pain. God, why do I have to hear this...? Josh looks away as well and turns, walking over to the bed and grabbing some clothes that lie on the covers, pitching them into a hamper across the room. Then he replies softly.

"I know, Ethan. And yeah, it's been nice to see you again. I've missed you too... but... you need to understand... not in the way you want me to. I... can't."

Silence, and then: "Why? Why not? Because of him?" Ethan snaps, jerking his thumb at me accusingly.

Josh stares at him for a moment, a cool disquiet overtaking his gaze slowly. Then he nods.

"Yes, because of Silver. But not fully because of him, either, Ethan. Because we're just not compatable. Because you've hurt me too many times to turn a blind eye. Too many times for my heart to ever love you again."

Ethan bites his lower lip, and out of the corner of my eye, I see tears glittering painfully in his gaze. My heart wrenches, and my hands go numb.

"I...I...g'tta go..." I mumble, and start to head to the door, almost blind with the pain floating around the room. But my hand is enfolded in a warm, reassuring grip, and I look up though the pain to find Josh's gaze, a grounder, a place where I can stand and breathe.

"No, Silver.. please. Stay," he asks, and I stop moving, but unable to look at Ethan.

Ethan sighs again, and then turns a pleading tone on Josh.

"Josh.. please... just think for a moment. Remember how we used to be? We can get that back again, I promise. I'll... work on whatever I have to so we can get that back. Besides... I've known you since we were in the third grade, Josh. I know everything about you... something he doesn't have. I know you better than anyone else you know... I can understand you. He can't. Doesn't that count for something?"

I feel smaller than an ant. Maybe I could just crawl away somewhere... die in a couple days... or however long it takes an ant to die. Their life-expectancies can't be that long...

"And you've hurt me like no-one else has. So no, Ethan. It doesn't. Do you.. do you have any idea what it was like? Can you possibly comprehend what it was like to walk into your room that day, and see you fucking the brains out of that ugly trick you'd picked up from the street or wherever it is you got him?"

My stomach heaves, and my head jerks up to stare at them. There is no anger in Josh's voice this time, merely an expressionless blankness, as if he were speaking about a tiresome chore. But his eyes pour hurt, and I die a little as I see this. I glance over at Ethan, anger beginning to burn as I watch him. Did I just hear that correctly?

"Josh..."

But Josh seems to have had enough. Shaking his head, he points to the door, regarding Ethan with a distant graveness.

"Just..go. Before you embarass yourself."

Ethan stares as if frozen at him, eyes wide and disbelieving. Josh disentangles his hand from mine, and walks over to the door, holding it open for Ethan. Madison and friends are still out in the hallway, and they jump back as the door is opened, looking guilty but at the same time intrigued. Ethan tranfers his gaze from Josh to the hallway, and then to me. He stares at me for a long while, the blistering blue ice of his gaze paralyzing me.

"I guess I'll be leaving then, Josh," he says lightly, still staring at me. "Hope you two are happy, then. I hope you don't screw up like I did."

And with that, he leaves, disapearing down the stairs. No-one moves as the front door slams a few seconds later, but everyone's eyes turn to me. I stare back defensively, trying not to wilt under the collective gaze. There is a noisy silence for a few minutes, and then Josh speaks quietly.

"Party's over, guys. I've got to sleep."

Silence for a bit longer, and then people start to drift away and downstairs. Madison hovers by the doorway worriedly, gazing with bright, concerned eyes at the both of us. Josh glances up to see her, and offers her a weary half-smile.

"Don't worry, Madison. You staying the night?"

She nods slowly, and speaks clumsily.

"Yeah... yeah... if... if it's okay with you. Jenny, Jake, Alex and I. The basement."

Josh nods his consent, and Madison disapears, leaving us alone with each other, the feeling of hollowness, and the shattered glass on the floor. We both stare at it, and almost at the same time bend down to sweep the pile into the little garbage bin nestled in the corner. I glance at him as he works, watching how his features have become suffused with a quiet calm, a sadness seeming to drip from the silken lengths of his hair and sorrow manifesting in the slow, hesitant movements of his hands.

"What was this?" I ask, gesturing to the glass. Anything to temporarily remove the silence...

He laughs softly, and rights the bin once we have finished.

"Nothing really. A plaque I won way back... with the poem 'Just Think!' by Robert Service engraved into it. It was getting dusty anyway..."

I nod with a half-smile, listening to the people leave, speaking to each other merrily as they go. He sighs softly again, standing, still staring at the spot on the floor where the glass had shattered. I can still see the ghosts of the the glass, manifesting not through reality this time, but through memory of pain, the edges more jagged and sinister than previously remembered. 'Careful not to step on them,' I silently warn Josh. 'Because in memory, you don't know what is real. And pain won't give a damn. It'll hurt you anywhere it pleases.'

"I'll be back," he says after a moment, and then leaves, closing the door with a gentle 'snick', leaving me alone in the room.

I slowly wander over to the bed, sitting on it carefully, afraid that it, like the glass, might break with too much pressure. Delicacy fills the room. My fingers run absently over the covers on top of the bed, the thick wool grasping at my elusive fingertips, its memories slipping into my skin, sinking into my brain. I slowly lie back on it, letting those memories fill me, feel the blanket seem to get lighter and less solid as its burdens are temporarily lifted.

Josh as a child, wrapped up in its embrace, curled into a corner of a room, sobbing silently at some ancient injury of the heart... Josh's mother, crisply folding down its corners, running her smooth, dish-soap scented hands over its design with an almost loving air; too practical and no-nonsense to ever truly be loving... Josh and a friend, lying on their stomaches, papers spread haphazardly across the blanket, pencils scratching in binders, childish, required boredom and blossoming adult intrigue spiralling through their minds... Josh's father and long-since dead brother, Aylex, passing by an Inuit store in northern Canada where the blanket sits on the lap of an old blind woman, who, in a sing-song voice, tells Josh's father his fortune and gives him the blanket on a spur of light-heartedness as the that sunlight streams in through the door of the store that he'd just opened and falls on her eyelids... Josh kneeling on the bed as a teenager, pounding his fists into the brick wall behind him in a fit of scared, boiling rage as visions of nude men provokes strange, unquenchable lust in his body... and finally, Josh and Ethan, Ethan kissing a trail down Josh's bare chest, fingers undoing the button on his pants and slowly pulling the zipper down, gasps of unparalelled pleasure escaping Josh's lips...

"You okay?"

I blink, and open my eyes. I had not heard him come in. He is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me. I nod and slowly sit up, forcing a smile onto my lips.

"Yeah," I say quietly, and then, not quite sure why I do so, I ask: "Did you have a brother?"

Josh frowns slightly as he regards me, his expression growing solemn for a moment.

"Yes. He died before I was born. How did you know I had a brother?"

I shake my head slowly, staring at the blanket in wonderment, and not a little fear.

"I don't know," I hear myself whisper. Then: "Was his name Aylex?"

I feel Josh stiffen, and he leans closer, a look of consternation and startlement upon his features. I don't want to look up, afraid that he'll be angry, or worse, frightened. I myself am not calm; I stare at the blanket worriedly. This has happened a few times to me, in differing situations, but never so strongly before.

"How did you know that..." I hear, and then I feel his hand brushing my cheek, his fingers slipping through my hair with a touch as gentle as any I've ever longed to feel. I look up slowly, and see his gaze on mine, a tender, wondering light to it. He shakes his head slowly, an admiring, half-smile hinging itself to his lips. I shake my head in answer to his question, and his smile deepens.

"Beautiful, smart AND psychic..."

I have to laugh, and drop my gaze again, my fingers lifting off the blanket and slipping up to find his.

"Did you find Madison and them some blankets?" I ask, in an attempt to veer off the subject.

He nods, and then glances over to the clock beside his bed. I follow his gaze; the slim little black bedside radio proclaims "1:46 AM" in dimly glowing blood-red numbers.

"Yeah," he says, and then stretches slightly, his hand pulling away from my face. "It's hellishly late. We should be getting to bed..."

I nod and get off the bed.

"Okay. Are there some blankets I can use, or are they all being used?"

He frowns as if in confusion, and then nods, gesturing to the bed.

"No," he replies, "You can use this one."

I hesitate, and then shake my head.

"No.. I can't take your blanket from you..."

He stares at me for a moment, and then starts to smile. Getting off the bed as well, he starts to head to the door again.

"It's fine. I don't usually sleep under it anyway. It's kind of hot. You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the floor."

I shake my head instantly, my eyes widening.

"No! This is your house; I'll sleep on the floor. Or on the couch downstairs."

He pauses, one slim hand on the doorknob. Smiling slightly, he inclines his head to the side.

"I'm used to the floor. Please.. take the bed. Or, if you're really that worried about it, and you're assured I won't bite, then we could both sleep on the bed..."

I bite my lip as I hear this, and nervous shyness overtakes me. Sleep in the same bed as Josh? Christ. I glance down and shrug in what I hope is a casual manner.

"Oh... um... okay... if... if you don't mind... I know some people can't sleep when other people are in the same bed as them..."

He grins widely at me, and opens the door. Leaving, his voice sails in after him as he closes the door again.

"I have a feeling I wouldn't be sleeping no matter where you sleep... the knowledge that you're sleeping in the same house as me is enough to keep me up all night. So, being in the bed with me doesn't really much matter. I'm going to the washroom to change... I've got some spare shirts and stuff in the bottom drawer of my dresser... feel free to use whatever."

I stare after him, facing the door, suddenly feeling as though I've been thrust into a strange and beautiful world where there are no maps or directions. I know for a fact that I'm not going to be getting much sleep either. My brain is already in overdrive. I look around, still standing in the middle of the room, vaguely feeling like an outsider. I can't help but admire the way he has set up his room; the general ambiance is one of solitude, introspection, but also creativity and dreams. Posters of weird art cover the walls, the type that look like they've been inspired by LSD trips, but drawn with beautiful precision. Vistas of medieval landscapes, faces turning into mountains, hands that could be trees, castles that might be patterns in prism-coloured wind. His bed is nestled in the corner, a swath of deep purple silk draping over the top and pinned to the wall, creating a sheltered, hidden space around it.

The blanket on the bed is of Inuit design, the jagged, beautifully swirling patterns creating a show of earthly delight upon the fabric. His lamps are covered with fabric that looks like it's been tie-died; tangarines, soft pinks and reds that cover the light and filter it through, making the room gain a cheery, comforting glow. I walk over to the dresser and pull open the bottom drawer, finding neatly folded shirts as prescribed, along with various pairs of boxers. I gaze prolongedly at the boxers before I take a shirt, trying not to let myself contemplate what he would look like in them. The first shirt I pull out is a simple black 'wife-beater', and I shrug out of my own shirt to put it on, testing it for size. It fits pretty well, and is perfect for the temperature for the room. Folding up my own shirt, I place it on top of the drawer, not worrying about my pants. They can last til tomorrow, I figure, and turn as I hear the door open again.

Josh sidles in, leaning against the door to close it, his arms behind his back, watching me silently. I stare back, a slow, shivering shock overtaking my mind. He has braided his hair, letting it rest over his shoulder, the end of the tie coming to rest at his elbow. He is topless, the light caramel colour of his skin looking like brown sugar in the muted glow of the lamps. His pants are gone, and in the place of them are simple, dark green boxers, a fabric which completely matches his eyes, I can't help noticing.

He offers me a smile and then walks towards me, pulling open the top drawer of the dresser as he approaches it. I stare mutely, almost melting inwardly as I see his perfectly formed chest; abs that are not too hard but not soft by any definition, skin that is taut and very kissable. Slender arms, rippling with gently working muscles, and a tattoo of his astrological sign, Libra, on his shoulderblade. Pulling out a shirt, he slips it on quickly and then flashes me a grin.

"I had change out of that shirt... it reeked like cigarettes from the guys downstairs."

A knock sounds at the door, and Josh glances over at it.

"Come in," he calls.

The door creaks open a crack, and a head full of dark curls peers around the corner. Josh grins, and as he begins to pull back the covers on the bed, he calls out again.

"Hey, Mad."

She smiles nervously and slips in, pressing up against the wall. Looking around for a moment, she directs her gaze back to us with a smile.

"Just wanted to say goodnight.. and to thank you for letting us stay, Josh."

He shrugs and nods at her with an easy grin, stretching slowly.

"You're most welcome. And... Madison... don't worry, okay?"

A grin breaks across her face as he says this, followed suit by an expression of relief.

"Good," she exhales, and then frowns. "What did he want, though? Did you give him hell?"

Josh is quiet a moment, and then shakes his head, his arms folding over his chest again.

"No. And he wanted what he always wants."

Madison laughs without humour, and nods slowly, her gaze downcast. With a tiny wave, she bids us both goodnight, with a tired wink being sent my way. I smile back and wave, watching her close the door. Josh is still until the door is shut, and then he yawns slightly.

"Damn. I'm tired... who knew that dancing could be such tiresome work..?"

I grin radiantly at him, and he winks in return. Before he gets into the bed, he walks over to the lamps, turning one off, and the other down, so the light in the room is almost nil. I watch his shadow approach the bed again, hear the soft whisper of the blankets as they are displaced, and the slight creak of the bed as he lowers himself onto it. I can just see the outline of his face; a slender jawline here, a shimmer of emerald there, and the long rope-like shadow of his braided hair. I approach hesitantly, walking as slowly as I can, my stomach butterflies and my heart racing a mile a minute.

He reaches out after a moment and pulls down the sheets on the other side of the bed, waiting for me to get in. I slip in slowly, feeling the crisp coolness of the sheets on my body, the strange feeling of someone beside me, and then the sudden warmth of Josh's body. A pillow reaches up to gently touch my head, and I lie back carefully, trying to stop my hands from trembling. We lie in still silence for a while, my eyes closed tightly, letting myself bathe in his warmth, and the softness of the bed and pillow. I can hear his slow, steady breathing fill the night of the room, and it is like a tide that makes me feel sleepy and exhilarated all at once.

"Night, Silver," he whispers suddenly.

I smile with sudden, glad tears springing to my eyes, and nod, even though he probably can't see me.

"Goodnight, Josh... sleep well."

"You too.."

All is quiet again. The soft, sweet perfume of his room infiltrates my senses, and combined with the warmth of the bed and the sound of his gentle breathing, I feel fatigue begin to sink into my chest, and make my body heavy. 'Just don't think' I tell myself drowsily. 'Or else you're bound to get yourself all excited...' I feel Josh turn onto his side slowly, and hear his content expellation of breath as he does so. I smile to myself and begin to fall further into sleep, feeling my thoughts become one with my body, a neutral grounding being created between my conscious and subconscious; that strange colourless area that you just barely manage to sense before you plunge into silent sleep. The last thing I hear before my mind closes the world off, is a whispered voice, sounding as beautiful as I would imagine an Elf's would sound, as lilting and beautiful as a sigh on the wind...

"One can look to the stars all their lives, and never wonder if the universe is really silver, covered by night..."


Next: Chapter 6


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